


October Twenty-Third

by StarlightDreamer16



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday, Established Relationship, Happy Birthday Keith, I had to write something for him, KEITH IS MY CHILD, Lance makes it better, Light Angst, M/M, Orphan Keith (Voltron), This is short and terrible, but I'm tired so it will have to do, but not bad I swear, just by existing, keith's birthday, klance, shirt shows up for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightDreamer16/pseuds/StarlightDreamer16
Summary: Keith is being distant.Lance wants to know why.





	October Twenty-Third

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a very short, very basic birthday fic but I've had maybe eight hours of sleep in the past two days and it's 10pm over here in Australia so this will have to do.
> 
> Keith is my favourite and I've practically adopted him so I had to write something for his birthday.

It was difficult to keep track of Earth dates while drifting through space in an alien castle-ship, but Keith did his best. When the gentle trill of his castle-programed alarm sounded on the dawn of October twenty-third, dread settled deep in his stomach. Even when Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist and pulled his sleep-heavy body back to press a whisper of a kiss to the back of his neck, the honey-thick sensation remained.

He dressed hastily, tugging his jeans up his legs with the single-minded precision he had lost when he’d moved into Lance’s room. Usually, he would spend more time admiring the warm tone of Lance’s skin and the splatter of freckles across his boyfriend’s arms than getting ready for the day.

Lance was beginning to pull his shirt over his head when Keith finished. He just barely caught the perplexed tilt of Lance’s head as he left the room.

The kitchen was blissfully empty, but he could hear the murmur of conversation, Allura’s airy laugh and Hunk’s enthusiastic voice, from the dining table in the next room. Tempting wafts of flavour invaded his nostrils, but he picked up a bowl and let the machine fill it with thick globs of food goo rather than risk being drawn into the conversation.

.

The rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat was familiar.

He wasn’t sure what level the training bot was programed to. High enough to allow it some gleam of intelligence. The robot had picked up on his patterns one after another and had managed to knock his bayard across the room. He’d had to improvise.

The coarse strap of fabric hiding the symbol on his dagger was a relief. The hilt fit neatly in his palms, held in place by calloused fingers. Sometimes, even his sword left too much room between him and his target. Sometimes what he needed was to feel the resistance of metal, or skin, right before it relented.

His dagger pierced the training bot’s hide nineteen times before he shut it down.

One for each year.

As he retrieved his bayard, Keith’s name echoed down the hallway. It was followed by the sound of Lance’s agile footsteps.

He knew Lance would realise something was wrong soon, if he hadn’t already. He would have to explain, but he hadn’t yet drawn forth the strength that task required.

He left via the back exit.

.

When Keith passed Shiro in the hallway, the older man sent him a tense nod. Relief swelled in Keith’s stomach at Shiro’s understanding. This was not a day for lectures.

Just as Shiro was about to turn the corner and step out of sight, he paused and turned back.

“He’s worried about you.”

The relief in Keith’s stomach turned rancid.

.

Keith was in the observatory when Lance found him.

“Today’s your birthday.”

Keith could feel Lance’s attempts to catch his gaze, but he kept his eyes firmly on the dark expanse before them. “Yes.”

Lance let out a breath of air through his teeth – not angry, just frustrated. “Why didn’t you–”

“It’s not a big deal, okay. I just don’t celebrate it.” Keith felt the tears prickling at the edges of his eyes but he refused to draw attention to them by brushing them away.

The soft tone of Lance’s voice told him the tears had been spotted nevertheless. “Why?”

Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair and letting strands tug against his scalp. Lance’s eyes had settled on the millions of stars on the other side of the glass.

“I used to,” Keith began, in a hushed voice, “when I was younger. Not with my mum, at least not that I remember, but dad was… dad was good. He’d take me out every year and we’d do stupid things, like eat ice cream for dinner or stay up all night and skip school the next day.”

“That sounds… really cool.” Lance laughed and Keith smiled.

“It was.” Keith’s face shifted, dropped. “He died when I was twelve.”

“Shit.” Lance turned his startled eyes towards Keith. “I’m so sor–”

Keith reached out and intertwined their fingers, squeezing Lance’s hand lightly to cut him off. “I got used to celebrating alone. But... It wasn’t the same. So, I stopped.”

“You have us now,” Lance’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “You have me. I know it’s not enough to make up for your dad but I’m here. We all are.”

“It is.”

Lance blinked. “What?”

“It is enough.” Keith pulled Lance closer, until they stood before each other. He tucked a strand of hair behind Lance’s ear and trailed his fingertips across Lance’s freckled cheek. “ _You_ are enough.”

Lance’s cheeks and ears flushed with colour. He moved to lightly press their foreheads together.

“Happy Birthday, Keith. This one will be better.”


End file.
